


Crisis Averted

by koolmae



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, angst with happy(ish) ending, not a shippy thing, rich/jake if u squint, takes place during the halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koolmae/pseuds/koolmae
Summary: When the SQUIP began to malfunction after a drink or two, Rich knew he should have stopped.When he began yelling about Mountain Dew Red to anyone in the immediate vicinity, Rich knew he should have stopped.When he got the convoluted idea to end it, no matter what the circumstances were, Rich knew he should have stopped.But he didn't.





	Crisis Averted

Halloween was always such a strange time for Rich. He only went trick or treating when his brother took him out, but when he left that was put to an end. Even the Halloweens they spent together weren't as celebratory as most kids. Instead, it felt like some sort of solace for him and his brother. Just a night walking around under the stars, getting an absurd amount of candy they wouldn't be able to finish. Rich would be lying if he said he didn't miss it. When October rolled around, he got the itch to go out, to see the stars looming above him in the dark sky, to walk around by himself on a street crowded with laughing and smiling children accompanied by siblings, parents, or friends.  


Once he got the SQUIP at the beginning of freshman year, those itches were suppressed. So much of him was suppressed. Everything about himself - his true self - was deemed not good enough. Rich agreed with this statement wholeheartedly. His lisp, his awkwardness, his wobbly legs, his sweaty palms, his physical weakness, his emotional weakness, was deemed a problem. It could all be fixed, his SQUIP promised.  


And it was fixed. Everything about Rich had changed. He wasn't the boy who had a lisp and tripped in the hallway or up the stairs every so often. Now, he had power in the schools social system. He was a feared bully in the lowest level of the system, a place where he once was, which upset him greatly. Rich didn't want to be feared, and he certainly didn't want to hurt people, but after many painful shocks and the idea of it being necessary to him being burned into his mind, he had no choice but to accept.  


Rich even had friends now. The more he thought about it, the more the word began to shift and distort in his mind and on his tongue. They had no idea who he is or was, and they have no real connection to him, do they? But, he guessed it didn't matter.  


Currently, the only thing that matters is Jake's Halloween party. Rich was truly excited for it, Jake's parties were always the best. They were so full of life; the house would be filled with so many people, so much food, so many drinks, and it gave Rich this pulse that he had never felt before. It filled him with life. He doesn't bother with thinking about how the old Rich would feel about the parties, or Jake in general, because he knows that would earn him a shock.  


Instead, he focused on sneaking past his father who had drunken himself to sleep. It was easy, and thoroughly upsetting. Rich avoided taking the car in fear of waking his father and jogged to Jake's house with his mask firmly adjusted to his face and a grip of death around the loaf of bread he was using for a machete. 

By the time the he arrived, the party had started. As he entered, he was greeted warmly by Jake with a tinge of alcohol on his breath, red solo cup in his already sweaty hands.  


"Hey, Richy G.!" Jake spoke with a large smile set on his face. "Glad you could make it, sick mask by the way! Here, take this." He handed Rich his solo cup and began to make his way through the other guests. Rich followed two steps behind, trying not to spill the drink as he made his way to the kitchen island. He watched fondly as Jake poured himself some unidentifiable alcoholic liquid.  


"Want me to refill that one? There's probably not a lot in it." He tried to lean over the counter top to get a glimpse of the contents of Rich’s cup, but failed, even with his tall stature. He considered it. Rich had a thing against drinking, and only ever took a few sips when offered, but as always the SQUIP butted its digital head into Richs thought process.  


**_He's going to start to think you don't like coming to his parties if you deny him._**  


_I don't think it works like that. Jake knows why I don't drink._  


**_Yes, which will lead him to the conclusion that you dislike attending his parties because of the alcohol._**  


Rich took the idea into consideration. He gazed at Jake to get an emotional reading. Under the guidance of a few drinks, he became a bit more readable, but his true intentions were lost to Rich. Instead, he held this dopey smile that had a few more emotions mixed in.  


**_All you have to do is say 'yes'._**  


He was still unsure.  


**_This wouldn't be the first time you've strayed from your moral compass and you know it, Rich._**  


That was enough convincing needed. He handed his cup over to Jake, giving him a smile and a "Hit me up with that good shit!"

Before he knew it, he downed the whole thing. Jake, being ever so kind, offered him more. Rich handed him the cup back.  


As he filled it, Jake spoke. "Ya know I always like hanging with you homeslice, but I gotta check up on everyone else," He passed it back and smiled. "I'll see you in a bit?"  


"I'll be here." Rich spoke with a certainty. He watched as Jake grabbed his own cup in a fluid motion, taking a large gulp, and making his way through the crowd.  


He started to realize something was wrong as he downed half his cup. Sparks began to go off in his head and they hurt. His SQUIP was having some sort of malfunction.  


_**Vil du være så venlig- Stand by- RICH!**_  


The SQUIP continued its multilingual malfunction, leaving Rich to conclude for himself that it shut down. He wasn't sure for how long it would be gone, and for once he wanted it back. He was alone in a sea full of drunk and sweaty teenagers (not like he wasn't in the same drunken sweat filled boat), back to his old anxious self which he hadn't been for two years. The panic hit him like a bus loaded with cinderblocks and he was frozen. Jake would come back and he would know something is wrong, or Jenna Rolan could come by and start asking him if he knew something about someone and would realize he was lisping and stuttering, or someone he barely knew would try to start talking to him, then when they realized something was wrong, they could tell their friend who would tell their friend, and Rich would end up as some strange rumor.  


He took the time to think in his frozen state. He could just sit there and try to ignore anyone who came by, just continue to pretend he was the Strong Rich everyone knew. Rich took a sip of his drink. He didn't remember it burning his throat this much? But then again, the SQUIP probably took care of that feeling like it did with every other feeling 

Rich had. He took another sip.  


And then another.  


And then he refilled his cup.  


And he refilled it again.  


And then he started to feel fuzzy.  


The world around him felt like it was shifting as he tried to grab for the bottle in front of him and missed. He dropped his hand on the counter and quietly giggled to himself over nothing. There was probably no way for him to escape now if he wanted to, he'd probably fall and break an elbow if he tried to stand. Then he giggled again, this time thinking of some idiot tripping over his own legs on a perfectly unaltered floor. It didn't take long to realize he was the idiot in question, after falling over air so many times before. He should have recognized this, considering how many times he had been mocked for it, but right now remembering felt like a chore. At this point, everything felt like some sort of chore. Remembering, thinking, breathing. Music boomed from the living room into the lonely kitchen, pounding into Rich’s head. He didn't want to look out into the sea of people. He doesn't want to remember the feeling of being an outsider again. He doesn't want to think about what would happen if someone came in or if he went out there. He doesn't want to be breathing. He takes another sip.  


Rich’s brain begins working on autopilot, pulling his thoughts through all sorts of different sad and self-deprecating paths, each ending with the same dark conclusion he had thought of so many times.  


_It would be for the best._  


It took so much strength to stop himself from crying. He could feel a few tears slide down his face, but he was alone. Still, the loneliness wasn't enough of a reassurance to let him fully cry.  


He can hear the steps of a stranger walk in behind him, and he wipes his hand over his face to hopefully get rid of the few shed tears. Rich wasn't a very religious person but he was praying that it wasn't Jake.  


Whoever was listening to his prayer was kind, because the person who stepped to the other side of the counter wasn’t Jake at all. They were smaller than him, chubbier, and they were masked. For some reason, the stranger didn't bother with a drink and they just sat down across from Rich.  


Silence.  


The masked figure leaned on their arms, a slight hint of a tattoo was noticeable from their sweater clad arm.  


_The hair..._ Rich thought. It was familiar, and thinking through the fuzziness of his mind, so was their physique. But something was wrong about their presence. It was as if something important was missing. Maybe they lost their important something?  


A sigh escaped the strangers masked mouth, breaking the silence, slightly startling Rich. What would the Strong Rich do in this situation?  


He took a sip.  


"Are you, uh," He had to avoid words with s's, he thought to himself. "Gonna get a drink, or...?" He hoped it was convincing enough, he couldn't gauge the stranger’s reaction.  


The voice hit him like a freight train. It wasn't loud or forceful, but now Rich knew.  


"Just drop it, dude. You don't have to be nice to me," Michael Mell sat across from him, and moved the mask from his face, setting it up on his head. "I came to talk to you."  


Rich cleared his throat and sat up, taking another sip. He tried to put on a tough voice. "...About?"  


Michael leaned in cautiously, and Rich mimicked his movement.  


A whisper escaped Michael’s lips, if it even could be qualified as such. It was too quiet, spoken as if Rich shouldn't even be hearing it.  


"I know how to stop the SQUIPs." Michael pulled back, almost like he was dodging a punch. Rich understood why.  
He was in disbelief. Michael had to be messing with him! There's nothing on the internet about them, there's no way he could know...  


But...  


Rich thought critically. The SQUIP had caused him so much pain, and he was hurting other people. If the SQUIP was gone, he wouldn't have friends... But Michael was telling him about stopping the SQUIPs, so maybe there was some sort of trust there? If this was over would Michael be his friend, even after all he's done? Rich’s thoughts shift to Jeremy for a moment. That was what was missing from Michael, and Rich took it from him. So, the whole friend idea was probably out the window.  


_Stop thinking about yourself for once._ He chides himself.  


"What is it?" Desperation tainted his tone, all hopes of looking like the tough Rich everyone knew was gone. He wanted to be his old, weak, friendless, pain feeling self, as long as he wouldn't be the cause of everyone else getting SQUIP'd.  


Michael looked afraid for a second and put his mask back on. He leans in quick and speaks too fast and too quiet for him to register at first, and then he shoots up and leaves. Rich doesn't think about where Michael goes and tries to piece together what he said.

"Whoa, what was that about?" Jake asks as he takes the seat where Michael once was. He was smiling, and he was more intoxicated than before. Rich doesn't answer, he's too focused on what Michael had said. Jake frowns and waves his hands in front of Rich’s face. "Rich?"  


"Mountain Dew Red."  


"Huh?"  


Rich stands up, nearly knocking over his cup, but he doesn't care. He needs Mountain Dew Red.  


"I need Mountain Dew Red!" He moves past a confused Jake, and flings open his fridge, his freezer, and his cupboards. The only thing he thinks about is how close he is to freedom. Rich could feel Jake's arms try to pull him away, emphasis on try, and hear his empty, slurred calls, trying to bring him back to reality. Once it hit Rich that there was no Mountain Dew Red in the kitchen, he shot up, nearly knocking down Jake. Where else could he go to find it?  


"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?!" Jake was shouting. The tears that were welling up in his eyes went unnoticed by Rich.  


_Someone here has to has it._  


"Well? Answer me, Rich!" Jake's hands gripped Rich’s shoulders with immense force, but Rich didn't care. Once he got his SQUIP out, Jake would forget about him. He would forget this moment.  


_Michael has to know._  


"What the hell is going on with you?!"  


_Where did he go?_  


"If I didn't care so fucking much about you, I'd fucking deck you!" Jake's grip was wavering and the tears were spilling out.  
The crack in his voice rang through Rich’s head. He messed up, really, REALLY, bad. Jake Dillinger, the coolest kid in school (no SQUIP required), was standing in front of Rich, ugly sobbing because of him and the guilt was tearing him apart. Rich scrambled through the mess he made to find something to comfort Jake. He couldn't do it SQUIPless and drunk. He'd lisp and stutter and make a fool of himself. Rich found a roll of paper towels he knocked on the floor earlier and took a few and went back to Jake who now sat at the island, head in his hands, shaking and sobbing.  


"Jake."  


He made a whining noise, signifying annoyance. Rich, drunk or not, wasn't having it.  


"Jaaaaaaake."  


Another whine.  


"Jaaaaaaaakey D.. Look at me, bud."  


There was a snort, a sniffle, and a teary eyed smile directed at Rich.  


"You..." He wiped his nose. "You made me cry, you ass." Rich couldn't say sorry, so he just started wiping Jake's face with the paper towels without warning. Jake was laughing at every purposeful nose bump, the pressing of the towel onto his lips (he nearly breathed in the towel, which made him laugh more), and the swipes near his forehead where tears couldn't reach. Rich felt a little better, but he still had to find the Mountain Dew Red before the SQUIP came back.  


"Aw, dude," The sad tone was back in his voice making Rich alert and nervous. "You messed up my makeup! My highlight was poppin’ and you ruined it."  


"I'd help, but I can't right now." Rich tossed the paper towels as he left, but was quickly stopped by Jake.  


"Where are you going?"  


_To finally get rid of this fucking curse._  


"Out of the kitchen. Move outta my way, Big Man." Rich hope he sounded like he usually would when he addressed Jake, but then again they were both drunk so he may not have noticed the uncertainty in the statement. Jake chuckled and stepped out of his way. As he left, Brooke passed him and went into the kitchen. Seconds later, Rich watched the two of them walk upstairs which made his heart pang slightly.  


_It's not going to matter anyways._  


Rich made his way through the crowd, eyes attuned for Michaels mask. After ten minutes, Michael was nowhere to be found and he was getting desperate. Rich started asking the people around him, going from room to room looking for people he could have missed.  
The night dragged on like this and Rich had no clues. At one point he saw Jeremy roaming around and went to ask if he knew where to get some until some asshole snapped at him.  


"Listen, Shorty: No one even knows what you're asking for so-"  


"Mountain. Dew. Red."  


"Excuse me?"  


"I said..." At this point, Rich had enough. He was drunk, tired, and afraid, and he wasn't having any of this guy’s shit. "I NEED MOUNTAIN DEW RED." And with that, Rich stormed off to rummage through any storage unit in the house. Jake was still upstairs, it's not like he'd find out. 

It took thirty minutes before realizing the search was pointless. Michael probably was messing with him, just like everyone else had during freshman year, and once his SQUIP turns back on, Rich would have a heavy price to pay. Since he lost his motivation to find the Mountain Dew, he sat alone in the cold and empty garage and let his thoughts consume him.  


No one was here for him, and after the stunt he pulled with Jake and the constant disruptions he caused through the party, no one would want to be here for him.  


_You deserve this._  


In this situation, Rich could only think of one solution.  


_You know what you have to do._  


No matter what the cost, he had to get out of this problem he made for himself.  


_It would be for the best._

Rich found himself walking into the basement, a lighter weighing heavy in his pocket along with his thoughts that felt like two tons each.  
The basement wasn't booming with life like upstairs, instead it housed a few people who were all passed out and Rich hoped for their safety. His feet found their way to the bathroom, and his hand made his way to the doorknob.  


It was locked.  


He knocked and got no response.  


A small voice spoke out to him, claiming this could be a sign. This time, Rich wasn't interested. He was listening to his gut for once and his gut (though filled with a considerable amount of alcohol), told him that he needed to do this. He would be doing everyone a favor by putting an end to things, and some damned door wouldn't stop him.  


The lock to the door down there, much like the rest of the house, was old and it only took Rich a few bashes with his shoulder to open up the door. Once he got in, he closed the door and locked it, even though he probably destroyed it. It was little assurance, but that's all he needed. He looked around the bathroom, taking in his last sight before he made his last choice on this Earth. As much as he tried to avoid it, he saw himself in the large mirror.  


His flushed, tear stricken face, disgusted him, and he ripped his eyes away to something more interesting.  


The Dillinger’s had bought these outer shower curtains that had intricate patterns and laces woven into them to hide the ugly plastic ones that got dirty. In a way, it reminded Rich of himself. He had bought something to cover the ugliness of himself, and it worked because everyone had some sort of respect for the Strong Rich.  


"Uh... I guess I should say some final words..." Rich whispered to himself in an empty bathroom. A part of him always knew it would end like this.  


"I have to say sorry to Jake, I'm about to fuck up his whole house real bad after all the kindness he's showed me. I should have wrote a note instead," He took a shaky breath as he started walking around the bathroom grabbing towels and washcloths and tossed them into a pile in the middle of the floor. "I have to say fuck you to my dad. You're an asshole, and you should be the one burning, not me."  


He tossed in some rolls of toilet paper into the pile.  


"I have to say thank you to Jake for being a true friend, the only one I ever had, even though he probably would hate me without my SQUIP."  


He found a pack of paper towels and tossed those into the pile.  
"

And lastly, I have to say fuck you to myself for letting it get this bad. You should have been stronger and smarter, but instead you had to go fuck everything up like usual. Good going, Goranski." Rich spoke as he made his way to the shower curtain. Burning the beautiful covering was like a symbolic gesture to him. When he ripped off both the curtains, he didn't expect to see what was behind it.  


Michael Mell sat in the bathtub, beer in hand, glasses in the other. He was crying, but he made no noise and no real expression as his tears slid from his eyes down onto his sweater.  


Rich was aghast. The shock nearly caused him to fall back into the pile he created, but instead he stood, gaping.  


"Mell!? What... Why the fuck are you down here?!" Rich’s mind raced. Michael could do anything at this point; hurt him, call the police, alert everyone about what Rich was about to do, but he didn't. He sat there in the tub and took a swig of beer. He didn't say anything at first. He just wiped his face and sighed.  


"Listen man, if your idea of a good time is setting this bathroom on fire, I'm with you all the way," He stood up and nearly lost his footing. "But shouldn't you like... Get everyone out of here first?"  


"Were you listening to me the whole time?!" Rich thought he was going to pass out, but by some cruel miracle, he didn't and just moved back to let Michael step out of the tub.  


"Yeah, I was," Rich was mortified. "But let me explain: I've been in here for hours probably, if anything you came unrightfully entered my bathroom."  


"I knocked!"  


"I didn't hear you, all I heard was someone beating down the door and I got scared," He fished around the tub for his beer. Michael was speaking in a way Rich had never heard before. He usually heard him speak encouraging words to Jeremy, and even his regular speaking voice had a happy hint to it, but the way this Michael spoke was broken. His voice cracked on some words, and his overall tone was uncharacteristically monotone and sad.  


Rich was going to say something until Michael spoke up. "I... I get it, you know," He sat on the edge of the tub. "Well, not the whole SQUIP thing, but... The feelings."  


Unsure of what to do, Rich sat down in the pile he made. He had never talked to Michael before, and now he was about to have a full on conversation with him about committing arson and suicide. All Rich had ever done was hurt and tease Jeremy and Michael and he had taken Jeremy away from Michael, and now he sat with the boy that he ruined. He shouldn't feel remorse for himself, he thinks, but he starts crying anyways. Michael doesn't move to help him, because he's also crying.  


Michael was the first one to contain his sobs. His voice was rough as he spoke. "Listen, Rich," He inhaled. "It doesn't - you don't - I... I know how it feels, trust me, I do.... And as much as I'm willing to burn down in this bathroom with you, you can't do this. Other people could get hurt."  


Rich choked out a sob and nodded in response. So many thoughts were running through his head. He wanted to apologize for everything he's done, he wanted to yell at Michael for trying to stop him, he wanted to scream and kick and burn, but he was so tired. His throat burned, his eyes were dry but still filled with fat tears, and his body was feverish but was covered in a cold sweat.  


"Michael..." He croaked out. He saw Michael move from the side of the tub down to the floor, right in front of Rich. He abandoned his beer and placed his glasses on his head. "I just want it all to stop." He started crying more.  


He leaned in close and put a hand on his arm. "I'm getting a shipment Mountain Dew Red around when the play starts. I promise I'll save some for you." There was more he wanted to say, but Rich didn't let him. Instead he reached forward and yanked Michael into hug. Michael hesitated but still wrapped his arms around him and rubbed circles into his back as Rich bawled into his shoulder.  


"After... After everything I've done-"  


"Stop, please," Rich could feel Michaels sigh flow past his ear. "I can't guarantee everything will be okay after your SQUIP gets destroyed. I don't know what kind of effects it'll have on you and Jeremy. All I know is that you won't have it anymore."  


There was a hesitant pause.  


"I can't guarantee that everyone you're friends with now will still want to be your friend." The idea that Jake wouldn't like him anymore broke his heart, but he knew it would happen. He was certain.  


"Would... Would you and Jeremy be my friends after it’s all over with?" Rich could feel his voice tremble. He sounded so small. He felt so small. Michael pulled away from him slowly and looked him in the eyes.  


"You did a lot of shit to Jeremy, including the whole SQUIP thing," Michael wiped his hand across his entire face. "I'm willing to give you one chance. I don't know about Jeremy though."  


"You don't know if you'll give Jeremy a chance, or if Jeremy will give me a chance?" Rich knew the answer, but he wanted to keep the conversation going. He didn't want to be left to his thoughts again.  


Michael looked like he was genuinely pondering the idea. Rich thought they were boyfriends? Unless Michael would want to break up with Jeremy because of the SQUIP, or maybe Jeremy already broke up with him?  


"Jeremy and I have been best friends for twelve years," That gave Rich his answer. "I've lived through all of his bad ideas, I've even gotten in fights with him, but he's never treated me like this before." At this point, it seemed like Michael was just voicing his thoughts, not really caring about Rich’s presence which was fine by him.  


"So I guess my answer is I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you or Jeremy."  


The tension between them is palpable. Michael didn't speak, but he placed his glasses back on his face and got up.  


"Can you move? I want to pick up this mess." Rich got up too and followed Michaels lead. They folded the towels back up, replaced the toilet paper and paper towels, and put the shower curtains back in the right place. Rich was still buzzed and the SQUIP hadn't reared its ugly head. It would probably come back once he sobered up. The thought gave him hives.  


"Look I... I'm going to head home, I shouldn't be here anyways... Do you need a lift? I don't really want to leave you alone here. Not that I'm saying you'll set the house on fire!" It felt like a lie, but Rich was willing to hear him out. "I could stay with you until your SQUIP comes back, I just want to make sure you'll be okay for the night." The smile Michael spoke with made the statement feel sincere, it was understandable why Jeremy spent so much time with him now.  


"Yeah, thanks, Michael." There would be time for Rich to properly apologize once his SQUIP was out of the picture. For now, he could make a friend without the help of his SQUIP. Well, he hoped he could. Rich wasn't really himself right now.  


As the two exited, Rich sent Jake a text.

**richy g.:** this poarty was a banger lad but im drunk offf my ass so im going th hell home  
**jakey d.:** ur not walkging are you? i stg goranski if u are  
**richy g.:** nah, im ghitching a ride w some kid from my chem class  
**jakey d.:** smfhhhh u didntr eben say bye to me :/  
**richy g.:** bye bich  
**jakey d.:** bye rich

It was enough to bring a smile to Rich’s face. He noticed Michael get into the driver’s seat and a slight panic set in.  


"Should you be driving?"  


"I had half of one drink!"  


"You seemed a bit dizzy in the tub..."  


"It's a tub, Rich! It was wet!"  


They laughed and all though Rich was worried about Michael’s motor functions, Rich let him drive him home, but not after getting some slushies’ and snacks from 7/11.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry for this. i too am crying
> 
> (also for those who want to know: the phrase "Vil du være så venlig" is danish for "would you be so kind as to [...]" which is the proper way to say please in danish 0: )


End file.
